


Be Better

by Bowieandqueen11



Category: God of War (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Just Married, Married Couple, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowieandqueen11/pseuds/Bowieandqueen11
Relationships: Atreus & Kratos (God of War), Kratos (God of War) & Reader, Kratos (God of War)/Reader
Kudos: 15





	Be Better

(Song lyrics are from here if you’re interested!: https://www.realmofhistory.com/2017/08/02/oldest-norse-song-codex-runicus/)

Night had fallen fast upon the land of Midgard. No more than a few hours ago, had the sky shone its mix of red hues, blood oranges and warm yellows over your fingers held tight in Kratos’ grip, as your husband slid the ring over your skin. Now, Atreus runs ahead of the two of you, feet kicking up the snow as he places his back in his quiver and forgets tracking for the night. Kratos’ heavy shoulder bumps against your own as he walks in silence beside you, all the colour fading away and leaving only a few remnants of blue as Skoll and Hati continue their chase across the sky. 

Atreus was humming to himself as he skid across the land, a tune you had taught him the first day you had, quite literally, bumped into the two pain riddled, but still hopeful travellers (and Mimir, of course). Your husband seemed tense by your side, always alert, you supposed, as you fell into sync with his heavy footsteps. His eyes darted down to you, nervous. You would never have known the internal battle within him, the way his fingers kept on clenching into a tight fist as they reached for your slender ones swinging beside him, yet too afraid to let himself feel.

‘The number of their worries grow  
and with them the number of their solutions —  
but the answer is often a heavier burden,  
even when the question hurts to bear.’

Yet there you were. Real. He had known it from the moment he had first met you up on the Mountain path, when you had barrelled into him headifirst on some errand from Sindri to find Asgardian Steel that he didn’t dare touch. As you helped Atreus up, offering a hand next to the God which he declined with a stoic expression, he couldn’t help but notice the way his son’s face lit up as you smiled anyway and brushed some snow off his shoulder once he had risen. He had grunted, his breathe huffing out, but even you could see the slight humour in the way his stomach rumbled. The intensity of his gaze as you complimented Atreus on his mistletoe arrows. The way his fingers dug into his fist until his skin started to bleed, yet he didn’t even notice until it began mixing into the snow.

He had hoped to spare you from this life, he thought, as the three of you reached your wooden shack: although humble, your home. Yet some things, he knew, were fated. Inevitable. Loving you, hurt him so much, sometimes, he felt he may burn, his skin in flames. He would never admit it, as he opened the door for you and watched you place your sword down by the entryway jars with eyes so soft and warm they could melt the ice that stuck to the door, but you made him better. The pain was worth it. You weren’t quite sure what to do at first, so used to spending your days roaming the realms, dodging nightmares and draugrs on your scouting journeys that the domestic life, the family life seemed so unknown to you. Not unwelcome, you knew, as Atreus bounded past you to dump his bow on the hide of his bed, just… strange. So there you stood, wondering whether you should start a fire, or start preparing the deer for dinner

Shivering to yourself, you pull the fur tighter around your shoulders as the harsh bite of the wind pierced through your coat. The heat of the fire Atreus was trying to start in the pit had yet to reach your skin, but that wasn’t what made you shiver. It was the way Kratos was still standing in the doorway, his looming figure shrouded in darkness, only a little light showing the uncertain flicker in his eyes. You could barely make out his beard in the moonlight, but from the way his arms tensed and made the door creak on its hinges, you could tell something was wrong.

‘What is it, father? What’s out there?’ Atreus ran up to stand next to you, both staring at the man who only huffed harshly in reply.

He only held a hand out, telling the two of you to stay silent. Atreus hovered beside you, until you placed your arm in front of his chest and pushed him behind your back. His nose bumped against your shoulder as you slowly began to walk the two of you backwards, towards the trap door you knew was only a few metres away under the rug.

You never had time to make it, though, before the Leviathan Axe came flying around your head and knocked over the Draugr that had smashed through the roof and crashed down to encircle the two of you.

‘Atreus, stay behind me!’, you shout, trying to dodge the two of you out of the way of fiery swords that leave a trail of comet like fire in the darkness. Finally hitting the floor, you pull the boy into your hip as you scramble desperately to find the latch while simultaneously avoiding the feet that stamp across the floorboards and send sawdust flying down from the rafters. Time seemed to slow, as you tugged and tugged and held your son under your chest, trying with all your might to stop him from being trampled on. You could feel him shake against your chin, a mixture of anger, fear and anxiety, but he could tell by the way you gripped him tighter that he wasn’t to dare to try and run for his bow. Instead, he tucked further against you as you slid towards the side wall and tried to flatten the two of you against it. 

You could hear the grunts of your husband, dragging the living dead away from you with unbridled fervour and fury, his hands shaking with the exertion of trying to stop anything happening to his beloved. My fault, he thinks as he smashes his axe into the ground, sending shards of frost flying across the room, this is my fault.

When the chaos finally settles down, the only sound you can hear over your panting is the last few crackles of the dying embers.

Kratos wipes his finger across the floorboards with a scowl on his face, rubbing his thumb and pointer finger together as the last specks of glowing dust coat his head. ‘Old Magic’, Kratos growls. ‘…Freya.’

You and Atreus stumble to a stand, taking in the shattered jars and swinging planks of wood that hang, splintered over your heads. Your poor home, already ruined.

‘Boy, are you hurt?’, he questions, folding down onto one knee and gently reaching up a finger to place under his chin. Tilting his head, Atreus scrunches up his nose.

‘No, I’m fine! Mum protected me!’

He lets go of his son, instead turning his attention on to you. Afraid of what his response would be, despite desperately wanting to hug your husband, you’re surprised to able to sigh in relief as he places both hands on your shoulders and pulls you into his chest. You can feel his beard tickle your head as he shuts his eyes and breathes you in, his fingernails digging almost uncomfortably into your spine. You, however, don’t want to unsettle him, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his touch.

‘You are a good woman, and I swear on my life I will always protect you.’


End file.
